


Save a Horse…

by Ephermeralk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Bottom!Sam, Breathplay, Chaps!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1973016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephermeralk/pseuds/Ephermeralk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam’s big brother has loved to play cowboys for as long as he can remember. It was only a matter of time before Dean brought this particular fetish into their sex lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save a Horse…

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written for [](http://smpc.livejournal.com/profile)[**smpc**](http://smpc.livejournal.com/) , to go with my brain twin [](http://kinkajou.livejournal.com/profile)[**kinkajou**](http://kinkajou.livejournal.com/) ’s WONDERFUL and [ VERY NSFW ART](http://kinkajou.livejournal.com/28903.html). Because her art is always so amazingly inspiring. LOVE YOU BABE. Thanks to [](http://sleepypercy.livejournal.com/profile)[**sleepypercy**](http://sleepypercy.livejournal.com/) and [](http://alexisjane.livejournal.com/profile)[**alexisjane**](http://alexisjane.livejournal.com/) who helped me poke this story with a stick. I continued to fiddle after you both looked at it, so all remaining mistakes are my own!

The sky is dark out when they finish the hunt. It was a poltergeist in a barn this time around—spooking the animals, moving farm equipment, lighting the hay on fire—pulling that sort of shit. Normal, _obvious_ , poltergeist activities. If one was inclined to believe in that sort of thing, Sam muses.

Stopped on the side of an empty dirt road, Dean kicks open the cooler he keeps filled with beer. Despite living off hustled money, there’s always alcohol around, and some nights, Sam feels like begging Dean to go twenty-four hours without. But Sam doesn’t have a leg to stand on in asking his brother to cut back on his drinking habits. Not with Sam’s past addiction problems that always seem to be Dean’s first line of defense when he asks. And, on nights like tonight—ones where they’re out in the middle of nowhere, nothing but the two of them and the Impala under the northern hemisphere sky—Sam’s pretty glad to drink down a cold one.

Right now, things are pretty relaxed between them. Sometimes it feels like they’ve been hiding secrets and living on the edge of the knife for so long, hoping it doesn’t slice into a portion of them so vital it actually can’t be repaired, that Sam can’t even remember what normal feels like. But tonight, he remembers. And it feels like this. Him. Dean. Booze. Cheap cologne. Smells of every home that Sam’s ever had.

The heat retained from the Impala baking in the sun all day pleasantly warms Sam’s ass, and when Dean slides up to him, knocking their knuckles together, Sam sighs. It’s almost too good to be true.

“Hey,” Dean says. Sometimes words aren’t necessary after endless hours on the road and a job well done. “We made a solid team tonight.”

“Yeah. I guess we did.”

Sam extends his hand, brushing his fingertips against his brother’s until Dean loosens up. He lets Sam grasp in between his joints, lets Sam’s hand dwarf his own. Dean takes another drink from the bottle then, tipping his throat back, and swallowing each gulp pointedly. It makes Sam rub his thumb just a little bit harder against Dean’s wrist. Foreshadowing their evening without speaking a single word.

That is, until Dean says, “So, you wanna fuck?”

“Jesus, Dean. Do you have to be so vulgar about it?”

Dean shrugs. “Wasn’t trying to be. I just thought: hey, I bought drinks, Baby’s right here and there’s no one around…”

“I don’t exactly _fit_ horizontally in the Impala these days. And you know it hurts your back more than it used to.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Dean sighs, and Sam can tell that he’s disappointed. He mopes for a minute until, to Sam’s almost sheer terror, he perks up. “Hold on, I’ve got an even better idea!”

Although it seems rather cruel, Sam wishes that Dean would go back to being disappointed. His brother’s sex ideas don’t always turn out for the best. Like the time he’d forgotten to cover his teeth because there’d been pie on Sam’s dick. Or when he’d gotten a bruised tail bone because Dean had thought it’d be a great idea to slam him up against the door, forgetting about the existence of _doorknobs_. Or…well…Sam could go on all night.

“I dunno. Sex underneath the stars sounds pretty tempting to me…”

“Yeah, but. We’ve done that what? A million times?”

“Give or take about nine-hundred, ninety-nine thousand, and fifty times. Sure.”

“Exactly. Don’t you want to try something new?”

Sam knows that eventually, he’ll just wind up saying yes anyways. Him and Dean, it’s inevitable, like rocks turning to sand, or the tide coming in. Sometimes, it’s best not to argue with fate. Even if he’s got a feeling that it’s going to turn out poorly for him.

“Alright. What’s this idea of yours then?”

“Well. Being out on the ranch had me thinking--”

Sam interrupts his brother. “You want to get your cowboy fantasy on,” Sam states. Because Dean’s loved to play cowboys for as long as he can remember. It was only a matter of time before he brought this particular fetish into their sex lives.

“I saw a couple pair of spare chaps in the barn…”

“So now we’re stealing, as well?”

“Borrowing.”

“With no intention to return. It’s called stealing, Dean.”

His brother only waggles his eyebrows. “Don’t think they’ll want ‘em back after we’re finished with them, Sammy.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but lets go of Dean’s hand and gets into the car. It’s going to be a long night.

\--

To Sam’s surprise, for once, Dean’s plan goes off without a hitch. He feeds apples (from Sam’s own personal stash, which he plans on making Dean repay him for) to the horses while his brother picks the lock on the tack room. They’re in and out within 10 minutes.

It’s not until they’re back at the motel that Dean tells him to go change in the bathroom.

“Just these,” he says, biting his bottom lip. A clear sign that his brother’s already turned on. After everything they’ve been through—dying, and an almost apocalypse being at the top of the list—there’s not much that gets Dean revved up in a positive way these days. And Sam misses his brother’s easy smile and swagger. If he squints, Sam can see the beginnings of an erection pushing against his brother’s jeans. The sight makes his own dick start to stir in anticipation.

“You picked up _ass-less_ chaps?” he asks his brother grumpily as he unfolds the chaps, only to find that if he wears them without pants they won’t cover his junk—or his ass.

Dean raps his fist against Sam’s head. “Earth to Sam. All chaps are ass-less. And besides, I love your ass.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam picks up the rest of the outfit—a red bandana—and heads to the bathroom.

“Don’t you want the hat?” Dean asks. “You’re supposed to be a cowboy after all.”

“You know they give me hat hair, and then my head gets sweaty—“

“—and then you complain for the rest of the night. Got it.”

“Hey Dean?” Sam asks, right before he closes the shoddy wooden door. “Make sure you close the blinds this time.”

\--

Objectively, Sam knows he looks good. The red bandana around his throat showcases his long neck and Adam’s apple. The dark brown chaps accentuate his tanned skin, and the opening in the front highlights his dick perfectly. It’s a nice change from starting foreplay with a zipper digging into his hard-on. Subjectively, however, Sam doesn’t like the way the leather digs into his hip bones. And he feels more naked now than he does when he’s not wearing any clothes. He must have been staring in the mirror for longer than he thought because Dean’s on the other side of the door knocking.

“You ok in there, Sammy?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I don’t care if your hair’s not perfect.”

“Shuddup,” Sam says, even though it’s a piss poor comeback. On principle, he runs a brush through his hair before opening up the door.

He half-expects Dean to be on the bed already, so he’s surprised when his brother’s at the table dressed in a matching pair of brown chaps, a vest that covers only part of his chest, and a cowboy hat. Of course, his hand’s wrapped around a new bottle of beer as well. Across the table, there’s a tumbler half-filled with amber liquid, and the implication’s clear from the song, _Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses,_ that’s playing out of Sam’s laptop.

“Subtle, Dean. I take it you want me to ride you, then.”

“Well, you know. Save a horse…” Dean waggles his eyebrows and grins in a way that makes Sam shake his head. Seeing Dean flushed and excited makes indulging his brother’s fantasies worth any ill-fated repercussions. And, maybe if Sam’s lucky and he doesn’t complain, Dean will indulge him later. Some of his own likes aren’t quite as…vanilla.

Sam downs the whiskey in one go, giving him liquid courage for the rest of the night before he walks over to Dean and straddles him. It’s an odd feeling, having both his and Dean’s thighs covered while his brother’s cock slides up behind his sac. Sam thrusts his hips experimentally and is rewarded when Dean grasps his dick, which has almost filled out to its hardened form, and starts jerking him.

“…ride a cowboy?” Sam finishes for his brother. “I dunno…I think I’ll have to take you out for a test ride. See how well you’ve been broken in, first.”

“Hm,” Dean ponders, taking his time before responding, all the while edging his dick in between the crease of Sam’s ass. “I think you’ll find I respond well to a cowboy who…knows what he’s doing.”

Sam brings his hand up to cup Dean’s face. He loves how his brother’s strong jaw seems so small, so delicate, when it’s underneath his palm. Leaning in until his lips are pressed against Dean’s he whispers, “Good thing I’ve had a lot of practice riding then.”

Dean licks into his mouth and Sam can’t help but open up underneath his brother’s tongue. It’s soft and warm, and Sam kisses him until all the tastes of whiskey and hops are gone. He grinds his hips down against his brother’s as Dean thrusts upwards, practically bouncing Sam in his lap. It’s jolting enough that Sam has to grab onto his brothers shoulders for support, all the while fighting for dominance in Dean’s mouth. They kiss and grind until Sam doesn’t want to wait any longer for the wet tip of Dean’s dick to be in his ass.

He pulls back, away from Dean’s mouth and wipes the spit off his lips with the back of his hand. “Go lie down on the bed.”

“Sammy, you know it makes me all tingly when you take con---“

“I said, _‘go lie down on the bed’_ , Dean. Not ‘talk back to me’.” It makes Dean shut his mouth with a pleasant smirk. Outside of the bedroom Dean likes to be in charge, but at the end of the day (or often a really long night) he loves it when Sam takes control, tells him what to do. “And by the way, I think you forgot this,” Sam says, pulling a second red bandana from where it had fallen on the floor. He leans up against Dean, rubbing their dicks together as he ties the red piece of fabric around Dean’s neck. Almost as an afterthought, he tips Dean’s cowboy hat off his head until it rests on his back held on by the string that’s slid underneath the red kerchief.

“Go on then,” Sam says, giving Dean’s balls a gentle squeeze.

The hunter training that Dean walks with pays off, as Sam can’t hear a sound as he reaches into his duffle bag to find a bottle of lube. When he turns around though, Dean’s lying on the bed, propped up on his elbows, smirking.

“Well, the room’s not perfect, but at least the view is good.” Of course Dean had been staring at his ass as he’d bent over.

“Glad you liked it. It’s about to get better, real soon.”

The room is small, and it only takes Sam two steps before he’s across the carpet floor and straddling Dean. “Will you…?” he asks. It’s not that he minds getting himself ready, but he prefers when it’s Dean’s fingers inside of his body, opening him up.

Dean holds out his hand and Sam squirts out gel which his brother proceeds to rub between his fingers. Making sure that it’s warm before he asks Sam to turn around.

“But—“ Sam always likes to watch the way Dean falls apart from being buried inside of his body. Dean can never seem to look away from where his dick enters Sam when they fuck, and Sam flourishes under Dean’s reverent gaze.

“Dude, what’s the point of dressing up like cowboys if you aren’t going to ride me cowboy style. Plus, you know how much I like to watch that little pink hole of yours open up for me.”

With a little bit of strategic maneuvering, because having legs as long as his will never _not_ be awkward, Sam manages to turn around and get on his forearms so that Dean can see all of him. “This good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Dean says. His voice has dropped to an almost inaudible whisper, and Sam knows without looking that Dean’s staring at his ass, imagining how it’s going to look with his dick buried deep inside.

Even after all these years, Sam still flinches when Dean rubs his finger gently over his hole. Not entering quite yet, but circling the outside. Pushing against the muscle, encouraging it to open up with every pass. He teases Sam, barely getting up to the first knuckle before easing out and starting the pattern over again, until Sam’s had enough and shoves back with enough force to land about three-quarters of Dean’s finger inside of him.

“C’mon, Dean. Stop teasing me.” Sam’s dick is bobbing against his stomach already, but he won’t touch it tonight. It’s always worth waiting until his brother reaches around and brings him off hard and fast. Exactly the way that Sam likes to come when Dean’s dick is shoved up as far up inside him as they can make it go.

Before he can ask again, Dean’s gotten his middle finger in him as well, although it’s still an easy glide, nothing compared to taking the girth of Dean’s dick. Sam may have a good half-inch on his brother in length, but Dean’s thick enough that Sam always has to take it slow when he agrees to let Dean fuck him. Even though his brother’s never purposefully expressed his concern, Sam knows that it’s part of the reason why Dean likes Sam on top. Especially when he’s the one getting fucked.

“More,” he huffs out, after a few moments of adjusting to both of Dean’s fingers that are currently working on stretching his insides. “I can take another.”

“How about two?”

“Yeah. Alright.” Sam agrees because the faster Dean’s able to prep him, the quicker he can ride his brother. He hears the sound of more lube being squirted from the bottle, followed by an intense pressure against his hole.

“You breathing little brother?”

“Don’t even think about pulling out,” Sam growls. He hates it when Dean decides that it’s too much for Sam and backs out without asking. He’s already half-way up a wall of sexual frustration from a lack of stimulation to his dick—he doesn’t want to prolong the foreplay any longer. Even if it stings.

He rides Dean’s hand methodically until, now that there’s room, his brother bends his fingers, pressing them against his prostate.

“Fuck,” he spits out as his hips jerk forward, seeking to enhance his pleasure. All he gets in return is air on his dick and the wet sound of his cock hitting the taut skin of his stomach.

“Yup. I think you’re ready,” Dean says as he carefully removes his fingers from Sam’s ass.

It’s empty inside of him, once Dean’s fingers have left, and Sam grasps frantically for Dean’s cock, trying to get it into his body as quickly as possible.

“Ho, there, cowboy. Patience is a virtue.” Sam makes a noise, somewhere between of huff of indignation and a warning growl, but he’s relieved when he feels the head of his brother’s dick press against him.

“’bout time.”

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to take it all at once,” Dean says. “We’ve got a long day in the car tomorrow without stopping for antibiotics ‘cause you got impatient.”

With plenty of lube already inside of him, Dean fits in relatively easily, although Sam’s walls press snugly against his dick, keeping it firmly entrenched in his body.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Dean says as he moves his hips up, forcing even more of his cock into Sam. By the time he feels Dean’s skin against his ass, Sam’s sweating, and his own dick is forming beads of pre-come that have started to drip down the outside of his cock. They’re driving him crazy. Like a rash that shouldn’t be scratched.

Before Sam can really start moving, Dean’s hand lands on his ass with a resounding slap. It hurts. Not in the way a real wound does, but his body doesn’t know the difference, and his ass cheek tingles as blood rushes to the surface. He’s definitely going to have Dean’s handprint across his ass tomorrow.

“Ow!”

“C’mon cowboy, giddy-up!”

“Seriously?”

“I’m gonna get soft if you don’t start riding me.”

“Fine,” Sam says. Even though he knows it’s not true. He knows exactly how much alcohol it takes for Dean to not be able to stay hard, and the amount he’s drank tonight doesn’t even come close. Sam starts moving his hips then, feeling leather chaps rather than skin every time he bottoms out. He keeps moving until he’s almost desperate to get a bit of stimulation on his dick.

“Dean, give me a hand.”

“Are you sure?” Dean asks. “You always come harder when you’re strung out.”

Sam bounces on Dean’s cock as he thinks about it, finally deciding that Dean’s right. As much as he wants his brother’s hands on him, bringing him off, it’ll be better if he waits until he’s almost sobbing with need. Fingernails digging in through his chaps, Sam seeks for something to distract him from the desire to strip his cock until he comes all over his chest.

“If we could be having sex anywhere right now,” Sam asks as he moves rhythmically up and down. Doing his best to catch the tip of Dean’s cock at the right angle to press against his prostate. “Where would you want to be?”

It takes Dean awhile to answer, although Sam’s not sure if Dean’s actually thinking of a place that’s better than their shabby motel room, or if he’s simply too engrossed watching the way that his dick is stretching out Sam’s hole that he’s forgotten the question completely.

“Dean?”

“Yeah. I was thinking, Sam. And watching you take my dick, of course. So fucking pretty.”

“And?”

“Honestly, I don’t care. Fucking by a pool or in field of daisies, watching the sun rise, I guess,” Dean grunts out.

“I’d like that. In field. You and me and nothing else besides watching the world come to life around us.”

“Mmmm…I would lick the sweat off your shoulder blades,” Dean says, adding flesh to the fantasy. “Maybe bend you over so I could eat out that sweet ass of yours first. Watch the sun glint off the pre-come that you’ve always got running out of that dick of yours. And it would smell sweet outside. Like flowers and grass, rather than stale coffee and someone else’s spunk. Maybe for once you’d come on just my cock. That big dick you’re sporting coming untouched. God that’d be a sight to see, Sammy.”

His brother gets serious again. Back to reality now. “But you know, as long as you’re with me, that’s all that matters, man. Even if we have to fuck on crappy motel mattresses for the rest of our lives.”

After he’s done talking, Dean starts thrusting up in a steady rhythm, bouncing Sam harder, although his hands haven’t moved to guide Sam’s movements in the slightest. When Sam feels Dean reach up, he’s sure that his brother’s going to start fisting his cock. To his delight, Dean grabs onto his bandana instead, pulling his neck back so that it starts to cut into his air supply. It makes him grin, even as he puffs his chest out, struggling to get air down his throat and into his lungs. Dean almost never indulges him; he doesn’t like to choke Sam. It goes against every instinct his older brother has. But, for once, the poltergeist hadn’t gone after his neck, like so many of the creatures they hunt do, so Dean must have decided that they could both handle Sam’s darker needs tonight. He pushes down onto his brother’s dick, trying to take every last millimeter of his brother as a sign of thanks, and in return, Dean tightens his grip on the fabric.

Struggling for air not only makes Sam squirm more, allowing Dean to assault his prostate with increased frequency, but after a minute or two, adrenaline starts to course through his body. Ramping up every sensation in his body. Emphasizing how important fucking is, especially if he’s not going to make it. Of course, he knows that Dean wouldn’t ever let that happen, but the struggle to breathe is getting harder, and Sam’s nearly thrashing on top of his brother. He hasn’t lost enough control yet to start touching his own dick, but Sam knows that soon he won’t be coherent enough to stay away.

“Dean,” he croaks out with the remainder of air that he can push out of his lungs.

His brother takes his cue, and finally, fucking finally reaches around and slides his hand up Sam’s dick.

“You’re dripping, little brother,” Dean says once he’s gotten to the top, coaxing out a gush of pre-come with a single stroke. “You like this, huh? Riding my fat dick, getting choked? Gotta say, it’s pretty dirty, even for you, Sammy.”

Dean pulls the bandana just a little bit tighter, and Sam can only make a strangled “yee-haw” noise in response. He focuses all of his energy on slamming down onto Dean and pushing up into his brother’s fist.

“Atta boy, cowboy. Ride me like you mean it. Like you deserve to come on my dick.”

Sam’s almost at his limit, almost to the point where his energy is fading, but he puts the last bit of effort into pressing on his thighs for support as he feels the pull of Dean’s dick against the muscles of his ass. Dean jacks him faster, making sure to press down on the nerves right underneath the head, and if Sam had any air left, he’d gasp as he finally comes, his toes bending backwards from pleasure.

Dean lets go of the bandana the minute he feels Sam’s spunk on his hand, and Sam falls forward, onto his forearms, almost displacing Dean’s cock from his body. Gasping through his pained throat for air. His brother pushes him forward then, getting up on his knees and holding onto Sam’s hips as he chases his own orgasm. Sam can hear his own come splattering on the comforter from Dean’s hard, erratic thrusts.

He’s too far gone, too exhausted and still struggling to really breathe to tell exactly when his brother comes, but after Dean collapses against his back, he elbows his brother off. It’s hot and sweaty in the room, and although he had an amazing orgasm, his throat hurts like hell. It’s probably for the best that his brother doesn’t agree to indulge choking him on a regular basis. He might get stuck sounding like Dean permanently.

Once Dean’s pulled out, Sam can hear him unbuckling the chaps and taking off the vest. “Hey Sammy, I’m kinda hungry, so I’m going to take a shower and see if there’s a diner close by.”

“You want company?”

Dean pats his ass amiably, carefully avoiding the handprint that Sam’s sure is already visible on his skin. “Sure. Although I’d suggest you shower too, unless you want my come dripping out your ass while we eat.”

“Thanks,” Sam mutters sarcastically, as he gets up off the bed and stretches out his muscles. When he finally stands back up, Dean’s there holding out a glass of water and a cough drop.

Sam smiles, even though as Dean makes his way towards the shower, Sam can see yet another beer in his hand.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Never mind.”

There’s no reason to ruin the pleasant mood that’s thick in the sex-scented room. Sam promises himself that he’ll bring it up tomorrow. Maybe when they’re in the car and Dean’s got nowhere to hide. Where Sam can get him to admit that he has a problem. So that he can help Dean. Something that brother’s do for each other. Even if fucking until he forgets that his brother’s an addict is often the easier route.

After Dean gets done, stepping out in only a towel, Sam takes his turn washing dirt and come off of his body. He pulls on a fresh pair of jeans and is almost out the door when his brother hands him the red bandana he was wearing earlier.

“For your neck. Don’t want to get called in on suspicion of domestic abuse.”

“Right,” Sam rasps as he allows his brother to tie it gently around his neck. Fingertips treading lightly over the bruises. Dean’s never asked why he likes being air-deprived during sex, and Sam’s never offered an explanation. It’s their usual avoidance routine which works fabulously until it shatters into a million nearly irreparable pieces.

Sam tries to protest when Dean pulls out the hat, but Dean just shrugs. “The bandana looks stupid without the hat, dude.”

His brother’s probably right, so Sam adjusts the brim as he follows Dean out of the door.

“Hey,” he says. It kind of hurts to talk right now, but it these words need to be said. A glimmer of hope that maybe this time, Sam won’t let this whole non-talking thing they’ve got going on get out of hand. “Thanks for tonight, Dean. I know you don’t like to choke me, but it means a lot to me when you do it.” He grabs his brother’s hand and squeezes.

“Alright, you big girl,” Dean says, and pushes Sam off him. “But as for the thanks—you’re paying for our midnight snack here, cowboy. And breakfast tomorrow…and for your own fucking cough drops next time.”

Sam smiles, because drinking and bickering—him and Dean—the lingering smell of sex, and cheap strawberry-covered waffles. This is Sam Winchester’s version of normal.

\--end--


End file.
